He's no wannabe

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US singer-songwriter Gavin DeGraw has paid his dues in
New York's clubs and bars to break through with a big recording
contract.

Like most Americans, Gavin DeGraw has never heard of
Powderfinger. Nonetheless, his tale of defiant independence, I
Don't Wanna Be, one of the crossover radio hits of 2004, bears
a striking resemblance to the sound of Australia's biggest rock
band. "Really?" he says, looking puzzled. "Well, get him in the
ring, then. I want him in the ring now!"

New York's Central Park on a clear, balmy summer's night is
rather special. Tonight, on his ascending scale of success, DeGraw
has sold out the Delacorte Theatre, a 1500-seat outdoor
amphitheatre in the park. Traditionally used for more "cultured"
art forms, the theatre has been renamed Joe's Pub In the Park for a
series of pop gigs from the likes of Jamie Cullum and Mos Def.
Manhattan's skyline would provide an inspiring backdrop for the
most timid of artists.

"So, they're putting my record out in Australia now?" DeGraw
asks, unpacking his bags backstage, "Well, that's just f---ing
great!"
DeGraw hails from the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York. His
earliest musical memories are of family reunions at his
great-uncle's farm, with an entire generation of his father Wayne's
family sitting around playing Hank Williams and Willie Nelson
songs. Wayne DeGraw played guitar and sang in his own band. By the
age of nine, his son was singing, and at 15, armed with a keyboard
and a guitar, Gavin and brother Joey would go bar-hopping looking
for gigs.

DeGraw was awarded a scholarship in 1995 to study classical
voice at New York's Ithaca College."I don't know how I got in," he
says. "It helped me out. But I wasn't into the overly artistic
snobbery. I went in and out of college a few times. But I was
always like, 'Why the hell am I here?'"

After dropping out, he entered the prestigious Berklee School of
Music in Boston, but DeGraw was soon back in New York. He
eventually moved to the city to ply his trade nightly at clubs,
bars and restaurants. It was a residency at the Upper West Side bar
Wilson's in 1999 that changed everything. DeGraw impressed owner
Debbie Wilson so much that she became his manager.

Wilson is a ball of energy. She's constantly on her mobile or
walkie-talkie, ensuring the gig runs smoothly. What was a hobby is
now a full-time profession - Wilson has a fully staffed management
office. Her enthusiasm and dogged work ethic is a significant
factor in DeGraw's debut album, The Chariot, selling
500,000 copies in the US.

Apart from incessant touring (two years straight and counting),
there have been innumerable radio station "favours" and recordings,
and in-store, showcase and television appearances. DeGraw has
appeared on David Letterman's and Jay Leno's shows, even Ellen
DeGeneres' syndicated show, as well as MTV and VH1. Moreover, I
Don't Wanna Be is the theme song of hit US TV show One
Tree Hill.

Tonight's Central Park show is a straightforward crowd-pleaser.
The audience members, predominantly under 30 and female, are
effortlessly taken by DeGraw's goofy charm. Most of them know all
the songs, with new single Follow Through greeted with the biggest
cheers. Last night was brother Joey's birthday. Indeed, Joey will
be on the road for the next couple of weeks playing guitar in the
band. Just like the old days.

After the show, amid a flurry of backstage activity, friends,
family and staff assemble with DeGraw and band. Outside, several
hundred fans congregate. DeGraw declines the icy bucket of
Heinekens in favour of posing for pictures and signing anything
thrust before him. It's a chaotic scene, and NYPD officers watch
cautiously from a distance.

Ironically, it was after a performance at the "real" Joe's Pub,
a smaller venue in the East Village, that DeGraw signed to Clive
Davis' J label in 2002. At this stage, DeGraw had been playing in
Manhattan for almost four years, and had played for a plethora of
label executives. He repeatedly heard the same thing: "It's good,
but we don't know how to market this."

"This was the time of *NSYNC and all the boy bands," he says.
"But I thought, if they like it, then I'm doing my job, if they
don't know how to market it, that means they don't know how to do
their job, right? That's not my f---ing problem!"

When DeGraw was granted a meeting with the influential Davis in
2002, he was unaware of Davis' true stature in the industry. He
knew about Alicia Keys and Whitney Houston, but was unfamiliar with
Davis' history of involvement with the likes of seminal artists
Janis Joplin, Aerosmith and Patti Smith.

"It was good that I really didn't know the whole thing,
otherwise maybe I wouldn't have been able to perform well. It was
like The Godfather - he had a big-shot presence, and
everything was, 'Yes, Mr Davis.' I ended up playing him five songs
and he made me an offer pretty much that day."

The next night, we're at the China Club, a smaller venue around
the corner from Times Square. The club is sectioned into areas for
radio contest winners, who are charged $US7 a beer (plus tip), and
an open-bar section located behind a velvet rope for VIPs. It's
here I find DeGraw's parents. As I Don't Wanna Be's
opening line suggests, his father is, indeed, a prison guard. In
contrast to DeGraw's casual style, he's a sturdy man with his head
clean-shaven, military style. Despite a friendly demeanour, he
would slot comfortably into the cast of most prison films. Wayne is
clearly quite proud of his son's success. DeGraw later suggests,
only half-jokingly, that he may be vicariously living out his
father's dreams.

Following Josh Kelley, DeGraw plays a tighter, heavier set than
the previous evening. Tonight is all about returning a favour to
yet another radio station that has added him to its playlist.

In 2004, boy bands are seemingly dead as a concept, and DeGraw,
now 27, finds himself part of another mushrooming scene - male
singer-songwriters.

"I think the label people were sick of the bullshit they were
putting out," he says. "I think they legitimately started looking
for people who actually wrote songs, played their instruments and
didn't wear hotpants and take their shirts off and spritz
themselves down with fake sweat."

As Kelley departs the VIP area with a striking blonde, DeGraw
holds court, charming fans and radio station staffers alike. Two
years into an exhausting quest for success, it's clear DeGraw still
has plenty of drive.

"I'm shackled to what I'm doing," he says later. "It's not like
I'm going to become a doctor. I'm happy to not be working a regular
job. I was a cable guy, a dog walker, I worked lumber, I waited
tables - I worked so many things. I'm just enjoying playing music
and avoiding the real world for a change."

Gavin DeGraw plays at the Mercury Lounge at Crown next
Wednesday. The Chariot is out through BMG.